


183 - Cute Meet at a Theatre, inc. Shakespeare

by storiesaboutvan



Category: Catfish and the Bottlemen (Band)
Genre: Cute meet, F/M, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 05:16:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17400719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesaboutvan/pseuds/storiesaboutvan
Summary: Filling the prompts “reader is a theatre actress and van and the guys help rehearse?” and “y/n is obsessed with like theatre and musicals so Van takes her out to see a new production and it turns out to be shockingly bad and they leave before it’s even finished and van feels really bad about ruining y/n’s night but she just finds the whole situation rlly funny??”





	183 - Cute Meet at a Theatre, inc. Shakespeare

The West End was alive and buzzing, even at that late hour. You stepped off the bus and made your way down back alleys to the artist entrance of the theatre you would perform at the next night. The roller door where stage equipment was transported through was up, and people were loading musical instruments into a van.

Security tried to stop you from entering, but you showed them your set of keys and identification. "Sorry, love. Thought you were one of them fans," he said as he let you through. 

A band had played the theatre that night. If the instruments weren't a dead giveaway, the streets peppered with kids in matching merchandise was. Backstage was lit up and voices were yelling back and forth. You tried to snake through the hallways unnoticed, heading towards the stage for a last minute solo rehearsal in lieu of sleep. 

"Hey! You ain't meant to be back here!" a voice called as you passed a room with an open door. A boy followed you down the hallway. You turned around but continued to walk backwards. 

"I am," 

"I don't know you, but," he said with a grin. 

"Doesn't mean I don't belong," you replied. 

"What ya doin' then?" The boy was drunk, but happily so. His hair had that beachy wave to it, like it had dried while wet with sea water. It was probably sweat though; he was in the band then. You shrugged in reply and turned back around to keep walking. "You going out to the stage? Are you an actor?" 

"Van! Where you going, mate?!" someone called from down the hallway. Van stopped to yell back. 

"There's a dead cute girl here. Won't tell me who she is!" 

"Leave her be then, ya fuck!" 

Van laughed, but you'd turned a corner before he could say anything more to you. 

Out on stage it was quiet. You could hear the echoing sound of backstage, but it was muffled and easy to drown out. You were ten minutes in before voices became louder. The boy was back and he was followed by a gang. Two of them, one with glasses and bouncing curls and the other significantly shorter than the rest, sat in the front row. The first half of the room had its rows of seats immediately rebuilt after being dismantled for the rock show. Your director had ordered that take place straight away so an early start could be made. The second pair of people, another boy with curls and a girl with colourful tattoos, disappeared down the aisle and were distracted with each other. That left two gang members standing in front of you. 

Van grinned and had his arm around the shoulders of his friend. 

"Whatcha' doin'?" Van asked. 

"What are you doing?" 

"Here to help, innit. You practicing for something?" 

"Yeah. I'm in the production tomorrow night. Last minute rehearsal. So... if you don't mind," you said, looking around at the occupied space you'd hoped to have alone. 

"We can run lines with ya though!" he beamed, taking a step back. He cleared his throat and held his hand out like it was holding something. 

"To be or not to be, that is the question," he said in a deep voice. You laughed at him.

"Um... I'm not doing Shakespeare, and is that an imaginary skull? 'Cause he doesn't have it in that act. The skull is later, and the line is 'Poor Yorrick, I knew him well,' or something," you said.

Van looked at you. "Don't think that's right," he replied.

"But, alas, a rose is a rose by any other name... ah... somethin' 'bout smelling sweet," the second guy said. His voice was loud and projected well. The rest of the gang clapped and he bowed. 

"Um... Okay... So, again, not doing Shakespeare. I really do need to rehearse though. I'm going to go get some stuff while you… finish up," you told them both. They were cute and funny, but you'd come to use your sleepless time more effectively than that.

"I'll help!" Van called, following you off stage, down a hallway and into the props room. "What's your name?" he asked as he found a Viking hat and put it on. 

"Did you know Vikings didn't even wear those?" 

"Funny name," he replied with a smirk. 

"Y/N. My name's Y/N," 

"Nice to meet you. What do you want me to carry?" Van followed you with an armful of stuff that you didn't need. When you had nothing for him to carry, he picked up a load of random objects and props, saying, "Just in case." 

Back on stage he pointed to each of his friends, giving them names. Benji and Dani immediately took the swords from the pile of props and proceeded to re-enact a lightsaber battle, complete with acoustic sounds. Bob and Larry were talking quietly, Larry resting his head on Bob's shoulder. They looked tired and if you had any hope of getting the place to yourself, they were probably your best bet.

"I remembered more," Bondy said as he picked up a heavy King's crown and put it on his head. "Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou are more lovely and... temperature? Something about winds and shaking buds. And summer's leaf has a short day!" He picked up a sword and held it up in the air. Everyone clapped again, but you held your hands on your hips. He looked at you with a smirk. "Tough crowd," he mumbled and walked to Bob and Larry to get them to take a photo of him in his crown.

Van stood smiling at you and not doing much else. "I think he could proper act if he wanted," he said, motioning to Bondy. 

"Yeah... His voice has good timbre for the stage. Is he the singer of the band?"

Van frowned, but the corners of his mouth quickly turned up into a smile. "Nah. That's me. He does lead guitar," Van told you. "So... what play are you doing?"

You told him and explained the general narrative. He looked confused, deeply confused. 

"What?" you asked. 

"...Didn't you say you were doing Shakespeare?" 

You couldn't tell if he was joking.

"I said I wasn't… so… many… times…" you whispered desperately.

"Well, what are ya doing then?"

He wasn’t joking.

You sat on the stage floor, not sure of what else to do. Van followed. Cross-legged and wide-eyed, he watched you while you read through lines in your head. "Is it a silent play?" he asked. You looked up with a raised eyebrow. "Said I'd help. Come on," he took the script from your hands and asked who you were. He read through all the other lines, trying to make each character have a different voice. When you could recite a whole scene without hesitation or pause, Van clapped. "You're dead good! You don't need to keep practicin' at all!"

"Oh, God, I do,"

"Well, happy to keep going. Scene two!" Van said and started his parts.

After a while, Van stopped being able to concentrate. The others were playing with the props, saying they'd help set the stage for your production. Van crawled across the floor to you and headbutted your arm.

"I'm so, so, sorry," he whispered.

"It's okay,"

"Here, I'll write ya a song to say sorry. Okay. Um. Y/N is an actor… she's got the X factor. Her hair glows under the stage light. She'd never date me, try as I might." Van stopped his singing to snort at himself. He was clicking out a tune. "The girl's league is different to mine. Says her lines perfectly on time. Y/N is fuckin' class. And I'm dead sorry I've been such an ass."

Any annoyance you'd had about not being able to rehearse had completely vanished. Van's stupid song and bright smile were the only things you could really focus on. You clapped for him, laughing.

"Yeah?" he asked.

"Very yeah," you replied.

He laid back on the floorboards and you followed him down. Between watching everyone mess around and listening to Van's drunk whispering, time started to move quickly. Out in the city people were heading home and the moon was ready to tap the sun's hand and let her shine.

Sitting side by side with Van on the stage floor, you watched Benji breathe heavily into a megaphone.

"Bondy, I am your father," he said. Dani was beside herself, cackling with drunk laughter. They took it in turns to deliver famous one liners to each other.

"What the absolute fuck, guys!" a voice from side of stage yelled. A person walked out. He was in track pants and a hoodie and looked pissed off. Capital P.

"Yo! Joe! What's up? We ready to go?" Benji said to him through the megaphone. Joe stalked over and grabbed it from him.

"We were ready hours ago. Been looking for you idiots. Heard this fuckin' thing down the hall,"

"Huh. It's on the quietest setting," Benji replied, taking the megaphone back and looking at the settings.

Bondy snorted. "It's still a megaphone…" he said.

"Why didn't you check here first? Ain't it the obvious place?" Van asked Joe.

"Got told to not be in here 'cause there was someone coming in to set up for tomorrow or something. I don't fuckin' know,"

"Oh, that'd be Y/N. She's an actor and we're helping her rehearse!" Van told him, grinning at you.

You waved at Joe. "Hi. Sorry," you said. He nodded.

"You'll lock up, yeah?" he asked you. 

"Ah-huh,"

"Alright. Cool. Guys, come on. It's almost fuckin' four in the morning," he said, walking off stage. Bob poked Larry awake and they climbed onto the stage and followed Joe, waving goodbye to you. Benji and Bondy took Dani's lead and hugged you after she did. You were left alone with Van. He'd sobered up a bit, but had a dopey sleep deprived grin on his face.

"I think with all our help you're gonna kill it tomorrow," he said. You laughed, cheeks and sides hurting from the amount of that that had been happening.

"I love your generous use of the word 'help,' Van,"

"Thank you very much," he replied.

"Alright, alright. Go catch up with the others. You'll get lost otherwise, wouldn't want that," you told him, pushing him away from you with your fingertips against his chest. Van held your hands and pulled them around him. He hugged you and swayed side to side. He was being called from the hallway. Letting you go and walking away, he pointed at you with both his index fingers.

"I'll be seeing you around, babe," he promised.

You waved him goodbye.

The silence left in their wake was lonely. You tried to run lines, but you were distracted by Bondy's crown mirroring your reflection, and by the growing realisation that you would probably not see Van around. Only lasting twenty minutes more, you went home and passed out as soon as you crawled into bed.

... 

Sitting in your dressing room after the opening night, you stared at yourself in the mirror. Every line that had fallen from your lips was on cue and had sounded out across the theatre with clarity and was heavy with purpose. You could see it in the audience's faces that they felt it. Such a profound feeling, you had to take a moment to gather yourself before joining the cast and crew in celebrations. There was a knock on the door. 

"Y/N? Some guy is at the artist entrance. Says he helped you rehearse last night and wants to say hi?" one of the runners said. Your heart skipped a beat.

"What's he look like?" 

"Uh, tall. Bit lanky. Brown hair. Normal? But like, pretty," she shrugged. And your heart started again.

"Yeah, bring him through." 

Another knock on the door and the runner let Van into your room. He had a huge bouquet of long stem red roses. It must have cost hundreds. He smiled as you stood. 

"Hi," he said. 

"Hi, Van. What are you doing here?"

"Seeing ya show, of course. Told ya I’d be seeing you. ‘Sides, I helped so much in the lead up, see, that I had to come check it out. These are for you," he replied, holding out the flowers. You took them and inhaled. They smelt rich and reminded you of the first house you lived in as a child; a cottage with a rose and lavender garden. 

"Thank you. They're beautiful. First ever bunch not from my mum," you said, putting them carefully down on your chair. Suddenly you had a deep interest in how to preserve flowers. Did you know anyone that was into arts and craft? "So, what did you think?"

"You were amazin'. Don't really liked plays much, but yours was good. Heaps of fancy people out there too, huh?" he said. You laughed. His down to earth nature put you at ease, and you motioned for him to sit on the couch with you. 

"Yeah. I know. There's such a disconnect between people that make theatre and people that consume it as an art form, generally speaking. Well... really generally speaking. I don't know. Definitely a different audience to what you'd get at your shows, huh?" 

"Oh, yeah. We get scruffy kids, you know? But it's all good. Think people really felt the play. Saw heaps of ladies cry. Even one lad, couldn't hold it in," Van said with a smile.

"Well that's good. Emotion is good," 

"Yeah. And, um, it was good that it was modern," 

"Theatre isn't just Shakespeare," you joked. Van laughed and nodded. 

"Yeah. We didn't annoy you too much last night, did we?" 

"Ah... Maybe a little at first, but then not much. You weren't... helpful, but you weren't... It was fine. Probably did me good just to be distracted for a bit. I wasn't so nervous after, I think. And I was tired enough that when I got home I just slept,"

"Good. I'll help you rehearse anytime. Was fun," he said, his voice lowering. "Or if there's like, a play you wanna see or something, I'll go with you. I mean, you probably have loads of actor friends to go with, or maybe an actor boyfriend or something, but-" He was cut off by your laughter. The phrase 'actor boyfriend' was too cute and too obviously an attempt to figure out your relationship status. Van watched you laughing with an unhurt but confused expression.

"Thought you don't like plays much?" 

"I'd like them if I watched them with you though. Could like, tell me stuff about it," Van replied grinning. It was a nervous but hopeful smile. 

"Right..." 

"Like... for example, there's one next Saturday. It's about ghost stories or something. Meant to be people poppin' up from under seats and stuff," 

"Yeah, I heard about that one. Super hyped. Sold out though, isn't it?" you asked, reading where he was going with it. 

"Yeah, but um, I know a guy and ah, if you wanted to we could see it... next Saturday..." 

"You have tickets? When did you get them?"

Van's cheeks turned a little pink. 

"Today," 

"A little presumptuous," you joked. 

"Nah. Just good at planning. Like the roses, I didn't know you'd be good enough to deserve them, but I planned in case," 

"Um, are you saying that if I was shit you'd not have come say hi?" 

"Nah, I would have, just would have left them somewhere," he replied, smirking. 

Van sober was similar to Van a little drunk. He was just better at listening and less easily distracted. You said yes to the date because the dimples in his cheeks were something you needed to see again, and because his hand brushing against your arm sent goosebumps across your entire body. He was sweet and had an easy wit that you liked.

Van had come to see your play despite not really knowing you and not liking theatre at all. That alone was enough evidence that he was worthy of at least one date. 

... 

Instead of flowers, Van arrived at your house with a mix tape. It was literally a cassette that he'd recorded onto. "You like the antiquities," he said, referring to your love of theatre, an ancient art form. Cassette tapes, another ancient artifact. "Figured I got to see what you're all about, so, here's what I'm about," he explained. He'd handwritten the list of songs. It was the soundtrack of his childhood, his life. A couple of the songs were original tracks too, but instead of the word Catfish he'd just drawn a little cat and a little fish. It was the most beautiful thing anyone had ever given you and you lacked the proper words to be able to express that to him. 

He'd worn a white button up tucked into clean black jeans. The one's you'd seen him in before were ripped at the knees. These were a new, deep black and had not a piece of thread out of place. His long grey jacket looked cosy, but it was fitted enough that it could pass as formal. Van's hair was washed and fluffy and it was clear he'd tried to brush it back. There was effort in everything he had done to get ready that day, and you didn't have the proper words for that either. 

"Ready?" he asked, arm out. You grinned and took it. 

In the theatre, you sat in your seats, which were close to the front but surrounded by enough people you felt sure nobody could spring from a trap door and scare the fuck out of you. As the lights went down and people settled, Van leaned in and whispered a mock ghost sound in your ear. You hit him gently, but he caught your hand and held it in his. It stayed there for a long time. Van's fingers between yours was the highlight of the opening act. 

"Am I missing something?" he asked, looking around to gauge the responses of the rest of the audience. 

"I don't think so... I haven't even been scared yet? And who is the guy with the bucket? Like, what's he got to do with anything?" 

Van shrugged and smiled in amusement. 

The second act dragged on and you followed Van out into the foyer during intermission. 

"Do you mind if we duck out for a smoke?" he asked.

You listened to other people's conversation outside as you watched Van exhale upwards into the night sky. Most people were confused about the narrative and unimpressed with the lack of terror instilled in them. 

"I'm sorry I've brought you to a bad play," Van said. You shook your head. 

"No, don't. You didn't know. It was meant to be good,"

"Yeah... well..." 

"Yeah. So, I have an idea," you said, Van finished the cigarette and stubbed it out against a streetlight. He flicked the butt into a nearby bin. "A few blocks over there's a battle of the bands type thing happening. My friend's boyfriend's band is playing or something, I think. I don't know. It's probably just as bad as this, but at least the drinks will be cheaper and we won't have to...like..." 

"Act all fancy?" Van finished. You breathed out and nodded. "Babe, you are speaking my language," he said and pulled you into a hug. He was so warm compared to the stone wall you were leaning against and he smelt like spice and smokes and somehow that was a good thing. Van rubbed his cheek against the side of your head, nuzzling against you. "Lead the way."


End file.
